“You weren’t listening properly,” she said in answer to our eyes. “This is, essentially, a new disease. It’s related to an old one, but given the difference in contexts, who’s to say if the old treatment will be effective? Viruses tend to weaken over time, but that’s no help to the population infected with this generation. Besides, when I ask the few people I know who’re really well-versed in the medicine of Faerie what the usual treatment is, they get wonderfully vague.”

“There are prohibitions,” Tick-Tick said.

“On saving lives?”

“I suppose, if it came to that, they might inhibit the saving of lives. But there are many things in the Elflands that can’t be spoken of outside them. The prohibitions seem laid almost at random; it’s not until you are about to say something that you find yourself unable to do so.”

Ms. Wu looked outraged. “Was this a spell? Can it be lifted—or at least an exception made, just once?”

“I was not placed under any enchantment, so far as I know. I think, perhaps, it is in all elves, that we are born with it.” Then she gave Ms. Wu a wry little smile. “But if this disease is rare, as you say it is, they may only hesitate to admit that they don’t know the treatment.”

“Well, I admit it in a flash. I’ve given you something that will reduce the pain and swelling in the joints, and tincture of echinacea for your immune system. Let the candles bum themselves out if you can. If you have to snuff them, do it with your fingers—don’t blow them out. I’ve left willow bark tea; take that in the evening when your fever starts to climb and you’ll sleep a little easier. There’s a cough syrup for your throat, too. Right now, that’s all I can do.”

“What… what are we expecting?” I asked her.

“I was getting to that. This has the potential to be a very dangerous illness. It is in the Elflands, anyway. I want you to lie there and do absolutely nothing except take medication when you’re supposed to. Some of my other thirteen, the earliest, are so sick I had them moved to The Lilacs, where they can be observed around the clock.”

“Blessed Mab,” Tick-Tick said, on a startled cough. “How many town council members do you know, to have managed such a thing?”

Ms. Wu shrugged elegantly.

“Resources to make a princess blush,” the Ticker muttered, and added to me, “Even you would fancy it, my duckling. It’s more like a resort hotel than a hospital, and high up on the Hill, far above the fetid airs and cares of town.”

“Beggar’s snobbery,” I told her. “Ms. Wu, what is this virus when it’s at home? If that’s all we know about it, I’d like to know that much.”